老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
I
The kitchen steps were as steep, dark, and difficult as ever. Upthose steps Sophia Scales, nine years older than when she hadfailed to persuade Constance to leave the Square, was carrying alarge basket, weighted with all the heaviness of Fossette. Sophia,despite her age, climbed the steps violently, and burst with equalviolence into the parlour, where she deposited the basket on thefloor near the empty fireplace. She was triumphant and breathless.She looked at Constance, who had been standing near the door inthe attitude of a shocked listener.
"There!" said Sophia. "Did you hear how she talked?"
"Yes," said Constance. "What shall you do?"
"Well," said Sophia. "I had a very good mind to order her out ofthe house at once. But then I thought I would take no notice. Hertime will be up in three weeks. It's best to be indifferent. Ifonce they see they can upset you However, I wasn't going to leaveFossette down there to her tender mercies a moment longer. She'ssimply not looked after her at all."
Sophia went on her knees to the basket, and, pulling aside thedog's hair, round about the head, examined the skin. Fossette wasa sick dog and behaved like one. Fossette, too, was nine yearsolder, and her senility was offensive. She was to no sense apleasant object.
"See here," said Sophia.
Constance also knelt to the basket.
"And here," said Sophia. "And here."
The dog sighed, the insincere and pity-seeking sigh of a spoiltanimal. Fossette foolishly hoped by such appeals to be spared theannoying treatment prescribed for her by the veterinary surgeon.
While the sisters were coddling her, and protecting her from herown paws, and trying to persuade her that all was for the best,another aged dog wandered vaguely into the room: Spot. Spot hadvery few teeth, and his legs were stiff. He had only one vice,jealousy. Fearing that Fossette might be receiving the entireattention of his mistresses, he had come to inquire into thesituation. When he found the justification of his gloomiestapprehensions, he nosed obstinately up to Constance, and would notbe put off. In vain Constance told him at length that he wasinterfering with the treatment. In vain Sophia ordered him sharplyto go away. He would not listen to reason, being furious withjealousy. He got his foot into the basket.
Constance said nothing.
even if I have to fetch a policeman!"trembledwith painful excitement?
When everything was done that could be done for the aged virgin inthe basket, the sisters rose from their knees, stiffly; and theybegan to whisper to each other about the prospects of obtaining afresh servant. They also debated whether they could tolerate thecriminal eccentricities of the present occupant of the cave foryet another three weeks. Evidently they were in the midst of acrisis. To judge from Constance's face every imaginable woe hadbeen piled on them by destiny without the slightest regard fortheir powers of resistance. Her eyes had the permanent look ofworry, and there was in them also something of the self-defensive.Sophia had a bellicose air, as though the creature in the cave hadsquarely challenged her, and she was decided to take up thechallenge. Sophia's tone seemed to imply an accusation ofConstance. The general tension was acute.
Then suddenly their whispers expired, and the door opened and theservant came in to lay the supper. Her nose was high, her gazecruel, radiant, and conquering. She was a pretty and an impudentgirl of about twenty-three. She knew she was torturing her old andinfirm mistresses. She did not care. She did it purposely. Hermotto was: War on employers, get all you can out of them, for theywill get all they can out of you. On principle--the sole principleshe possessed--she would not stay in a place more than six months.She liked change. And employers did not like change. She wasshameless with men. She ignored all orders as to what she was toeat and what she was not to eat. She lived up to the fullresources of her employers. She could be to the last degreeslatternly. Or she could be as neat as a pin, with an apron thatsymbolized purity and propriety, as to-night. She could be idleduring a whole day, accumulating dirty dishes from morn till eve.On the other hand she could, when she chose, work with astonishingcelerity and even thoroughness. In short, she was born toinfuriate a mistress like Sophia and to wear out a mistress likeConstance. Her strongest advantage in the struggle was that sheenjoyed altercation; she revelled in a brawl; she found peacetedious. She was perfectly calculated to convince the sisters thattimes had worsened, and that the world would never again be thebeautiful, agreeable place it once had been.
Her gestures as she laid the table were very graceful, in the pertstyle. She dropped forks into their appointed positions withdisdain; she made slightly too much noise; when she turned shemanoeuvred her swelling hips as though for the benefit of asoldier in a handsome uniform.
Nothing but the servant had been changed in that house. Theharmonium on which Mr. Povey used occasionally to play was stillbehind the door; and on the harmonium was the tea-caddy of whichMrs. Baines used to carry the key on her bunch. In the corner tothe right of the fireplace still hung the cupboard where Mrs.Baines stored her pharmacopoeia. The rest of the furniture wasarranged as it had been arranged when the death of Mrs. Bainesendowed Mr. and Mrs. Povey with all the treasures of the house atAxe. And it was as good as ever; better than ever. Dr. Stirlingoften expressed the desire for a corner cupboard like Mrs.Baines's corner cupboard. One item had been added: the 'Peel'compote which Matthew Peel-Swynnerton had noticed in the dining-room of the Pension Frensham. This majestic piece, which had beenreserved by Sophia in the sale of the pension, stood alone on acanterbury in the drawingroom. She had stored it, with a few othertrifles, in Paris, and when she sent for it and the packing-casearrived, both she and Constance became aware that they were unitedfor the rest of their lives. Of worldly goods, except money,securities, and clothes, that compote was practically all thatSophia owned. Happily it was a first-class item, doing no shame tothe antique magnificence of the drawing-room.
In yielding to Constance's terrible inertia, Sophia had meantnevertheless to work her own will on the interior of the house.She had meant to bully Constance into modernizing the dwelling.She did bully Constance, but the house defied her. Nothing couldbe done to that house. If only it had had a hall or lobby acomplete transformation would have been possible. But there was noaccess to the upper floor except through the parlour. The parlourcould not therefore be turned into a kitchen and the basementsuppressed, and the ladies of the house could not live entirely onthe upper floor. The disposition of the rooms had to remainexactly as it had always been. There was the same draught underthe door, the same darkness on the kitchen stairs, the samedifficulties with tradesmen in the distant backyard, the sametwist in the bedroom stairs, the same eternal ascending anddescending of pails. An efficient cooking-stove, instead of thelarge and capacious range, alone represented the twentieth centuryin the fixtures of the house.
Buried at the root of the relations between the sisters wasSophia's grudge against Constance for refusing to leave theSquare. Sophia was loyal. She would not consciously give with onehand while taking away with the other, and in acceptingConstance's decision she honestly meant to close her eyes to itsstupidity. But she could not entirely succeed. She could not avoidthinking that the angelic Constance had been strangely andmonstrously selfish in refusing to quit the Square. She marvelledthat a woman of Constance's sweet and calm disposition should becapable of so vast and ruthless an egotism. Constance must haveknown that Sophia would not leave her, and that the habitation ofthe Square was a continual irk to Sophia. Constance had never beenable to advance a single argument for remaining in the Square. Andyet she would not budge. It was so inconsistent with the rest ofConstance's behaviour. See Sophia sitting primly there by thetable, a woman approaching sixty, with immense experience writtenon the fine hardness of her worn and distinguished face! Thoughher hair is not yet all grey, nor her figure bowed, you wouldimagine that she would, in her passage through the world, havelearnt better than to expect a character to be consistent. But no!She was ever disappointed and hurt by Constance's inconsistency!And see Constance, stout and bowed, looking more than her age withhair nearly white and slightly trembling hands! See that facewhose mark is meekness and the spirit of conciliation, the desirefor peace--you would not think that that placid soul could, whilesubmitting to it, inly rage against the imposed weight of Sophia'sindividuality. "Because I wouldn't turn out of my house to pleaseher," Constance would say to herself, "she fancies she is entitledto do just as she likes." Not often did she secretly rebel thus,but it occurred sometimes. They never quarrelled. They would haveregarded separation as a disaster. Considering the difference oftheir lives, they agreed marvellously in their judgment of things.But that buried question of domicile prevented a complete unitybetween, them. And its suble effect was to influence both of themto make the worst, instead of the best, of the trifling mishapsthat disturbed their tranquillity. When annoyed, Sophia wouldmeditate upon the mere fact that they lived in the Square for noreason whatever, until it grew incredibly shocking to her. Afterall it was scarcely conceivable that they should be living in thevery middle of a dirty, ugly, industrial town simply becauseConstance mulishly declined to move. Another thing that curiouslyexasperated both of them upon occasion was that, owing to arecurrence of her old complaint of dizziness after meals, Sophiahad been strictly forbidden to drink tea, which she loved. Sophiachafed under the deprivation, and Constance's pleasure wasimpaired because she had to drink it alone.
While the brazen and pretty servant, mysteriously smiling toherself, dropped food and utensils on to the table, Constance andSophia attempted to converse with negligent ease upon indifferenttopics, as though nothing had occurred that day to mar the beautyof ideal relations between employers and employed. The pretencewas ludicrous. The young wench saw through it instantly, and hermysterious smile developed almost into a laugh.
"Please shut the door after you, Maud," said Sophia, as the girlpicked up her empty tray.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Maud, politely.
She went out and left the door open.
It was a defiance, offered from sheer, youthful, wanton mischief.
The sisters looked at each other, their faces gravely troubled,aghast, as though they had glimpsed the end of civilized society,as though they felt that they had lived too long into an age ofdecadence and open shame. Constance's face showed despair--shemight have been about to be pitched into the gutter without afriend and without a shilling--but Sophia's had the recklesscourage that disaster breeds.
Sophia jumped up, and stepped to the door. "Maud," she called out.
No answer.
"Maud, do you hear me?"
The suspense was fearful.
Still no answer.
Sophia glanced at Constance. "Either she shuts this door, or sheleaves this house at once, even if I have to fetch a policeman!"
And Sophia disappeared down the kitchen steps. Constance trembledwith painful excitement. The horror of existence closed in uponher. She could imagine nothing more appalling than the pass towhich they had been brought by the modern change in the lowerclasses.
leaveFossette down there to her tender?
In the kitchen, Sophia, conscious that the moment held the futureof at least the next three weeks, collected her forces.
"Maud," she said, "did you not hear me call you?"
the bell, and lighted the gas.had won something.
"No, ma'am."
"You liar!" thought Sophia. And she said: "I asked you to shut theparlour door, and I shall be obliged if you will do so."
Now Maud would have given a week's wages for the moral force todisobey Sophia. There was nothing to compel her to obey. She couldhave trampled on the fragile and weak Sophia. But something inSophia's gaze compelled her to obey. She flounced; she bridled;she mumbled; she unnecessarily disturbed the venerable Spot; butshe obeyed. Sophia had risked all, and she had won something.
"And you should light the gas in the kitchen," said Sophiamagnificently, as Maud followed her up the steps. "Your young eyesmay be very good now, but you are not going the way to preservethem. My sister and I have often told you that we do not grudgeyou gas."
With stateliness she rejoined Constance, and sat down to the coldsupper. And as Maud clicked the door to, the sisters breathedrelief. They envisaged new tribulations, but for a brief instantthere was surcease.
Yet they could not eat. Neither of them, when it came to thepoint, could swallow. The day had been too exciting, toodistressing. They were at the end of their resources. And they didnot hide from each other that they were at the end of theirresources. The illness of Fossette, without anything else, hadbeen more than enough to ruin their tranquillity. But the illnessof Fossette was as nothing to the ingenious naughtiness of theservant. Maud had a sense of temporary defeat, and was planningfresh operations; but really it was Maud who had conquered. Poorold things, they were in such a 'state' that they could not eat!
"I'm not going to let her think she can spoil my appetite!" saidSophia, dauntless. Truly that woman's spirit was unquenchable.
She cut a couple of slices off the cold fowl; she cut a tomatointo slices; she disturbed the butter; she crumbled bread on thecloth, and rubbed bits of fowl over the plates, and dirtied knivesand forks. Then she put the slices of fowl and bread and tomatointo a piece of tissue paper, and silently went upstairs with theparcel and came down again a moment afterwards empty-handed.
After an interval she rang the bell, and lighted the gas.
"We've finished, Maud. You can clear away."
Constance thirsted for a cup of tea. She felt that a cup of teawas the one thing that would certainly keep her alive. She longedfor it passionately. But she would not demand it from Maud. Norwould she mention it to Sophia, lest Sophia, flushed by thevictory of the door, should incur new risks. She simply didwithout. On empty stomachs they tried pathetically to help eachother in games of Patience. And when the blithe Maud passedthrough the parlour on the way to bed, she saw two dignified andapparently calm ladies, apparently absorbed in a delightful gameof cards, apparently without a worry in the world. They said "Goodnight, Maud," cheerfully, politely, and coldly. It was a heroicscene. Immediately afterwards Sophia carried Fossette up to herown bedroom.